Yay! Another update!! I know that it's taking awhile for these to get out, but as I said last chapter, it's going to be between 1-3 weeks for the new chapters. And again, don't worry; I intend to finish this story.

I apologize to those wiser in the Tolkien universe than I am, but this chapter is how I interpret some of the power that is in all of the elves. Also, I hope Glorifindel is spelled correctly. If not, tell me and I'll fix it.

Thank you guys soooooo much for being patient with me, and I must also thank you all for you kind reviews! You're all so nice! Thanks!!

On with the story...

Elven Wrath

The wood was grainy underneath his hands, grainy and wet from the water tossed from buckets used to wash down the decks. Splinters of wood scraped against his palms as he began to shift his weight from his landing crouch.

The moment he moved, in an instant, time seemed to freeze. To Legolas everything felt as if it had slowed down dramatically, he could feel a strange pulse in the air around him. There is a power evident and underlying in all nature, and now the elf prince had managed to tune his senses towards it, and to tap into it. He could feel it drawing into him and expanding his own forces.

The feeling was strange and it brought to Legolas an odd sense of vertigo, something he had rarely ever experienced. It was not something he liked. The elf shook his head, trying to clear the feeling and to readjust his senses. He was furious at the corsairs and wanted to take vengeance, which could not be done if he didn't focus.

As he moved his head though, as his vision swept across its destined path, he caught site of the elf maiden. The corsairs had evidentially thrown her to the deck and were preparing to rob her dignity. She was sobbing, lying there pitifully, and trying to protect herself from the clutches of corsair hands. As Legolas stared at her he noticed that she was bleeding from the nose, and that there were many dark bruises forming around her mouth and on her face.

Legolas felt a dark rage flow through him, and something inside of him snapped.

Time suddenly sped up. The world now was rushing by his being, swirling around him in thousands of snapshots, blurred with speed. He felt that he stood in the only place where the laws of physics had not been thrown out the windows. What was wrong with him?

Everything flashed by. Aragorn standing up from his crouched position, drawing his sword in preparation for the coming battle. The corsairs finally starting to realize that they were somehow under attack, leaving the elven maiden, and staring in disbelief at the two who had challenged them. Legolas could see them, moving to make a defense, laughing, not realizing how much danger their lives were in.
As the laughter hit his ears, Legolas felt his breath robbed of him. The split second before it happened, he realized what was happening. He let go of any resistance he had been building, and let the power flow through his tensed form.

Instantly his body stiffened, and his hands went out, fingers spread wide as a blinding whiteness filled his vision. A sudden rush of noise and wind came whistling out of nowhere. Everything to his eyes finally appeared to be moving normally, but all was seen through this whiteness, bright as any sun. He saw now that the corsairs were no longer laughing, but appropriately panicking, many had fallen dead. Parts of the ship were being ripped away into nothing but splinters, and off to his right he perceived the mast snapping. With a series of sharp resounding cracks, it swayed, and then under the force of the wind it was pushed over, falling to crash through the ship's side. The impact rocked the entire vessel, sending river water to crash up onto the ruined deck.

Legolas concentrated. Only once before in his life had he done this, and then it had not lasted quickly. But now, here, he felt much more force. If he concentrated, he could fine tune it and let it feed off his rage, making it truly devastating. He reached inside himself and poured all of his anger, and grief, all of his power, amplified tenfold by the sea, the power of the race of the eldar, all this he let flow from himself into the whiteness, into his wrath. And then, closing his eyes, he released it.

Aragorn sped to the end of the branch, and grapping the edge of it, used it to propel himself across the water and onto the corsair ship. Legolas was one step ahead of him, and the two friends landed together upon the deck, barely just making it on board.

As Aragorn stood, he caught site of Legolas shaking his head, as if some pain bothered the elf, but Aragorn couldn't understand what that might be. As he rose, drawing his sword, Legolas also rose, seemingly to have recovered from whatever it was that had been bothering him. Aragorn turned to the enemy, but still sensed that something was not right. Risking a quick glance at his friend, he felt his jaw drop in shock.

Legolas's eyes had gone a pure white, blazing forth with a power that spoke of ancient days, and Aragorn knew now what troubled his friend. He also knew he had precious few seconds before all hell and brimstone was let lose. He dove aside, and began to put distance between himself and the elf prince.

The corsairs started laughing, thinking him to run in defeat before the battle had even started. Aragorn paid them no heed, he was no fool. Being raised in Rivendell meant that as a youth he had had to study from the ancient books of lore that Elrond kept in his library, and from these books Aragorn knew what an elf revealed in his wrath was capable off. Had not Glorifindel challenged the black riders thus?

He had only gone a few quick steps before he felt it. A wave through the air, with such power behind it that he was knocked from his feet, and sent flying. He landed hard on the deck, and knowing what was to follow, shut his eyes tightly. He curled up protectively, and ignored the new bruise forming from his rough landing.

A strong wind hurled around in the air, whipping his clothing and hair about, the latter stinging his face under the force. The whiteness was so intense that even though his eyes remained shut, light still burned its way through. His entire body felt penetrated by the power.
A splinter of wood unseen by him raced through the air and cut into his flesh just above his wrist. His mouth tightened at the unexpected pain, but it was no serious injury. He did not think the corsairs were faring as well. He could hear their screaming, and dimly realized as a huge impact rocked the ship, that the mast must have been snapped completely.

As another wave pulsed across the deck though, he realized that this was only just the beginning. The wind was now screaming in his ears, he couldn't tell the difference between it and the corsairs. A horrible noise of panic reared up around him, but he didn't move. He remained absolutely still, and kept his eyes shut tight. He did not wish to be blinded by this experience. He heard more cracking and crashing sounds and assumed that more of the ship had been torn apart by the destructiveness of Legolas's wrath. He found himself yelling with all his breath, adding to the noise and confusion.

Legolas took a step forward as the corsairs who had not yet died panicked about him. As he moved the entire ship groaned. Corsairs trying to flee over the sides of the ships were met only with death as splinters of wood buried themselves into their dark hearts. In only a few minutes since the two had jumped from the tree, the entire ship was thrown into pandemonium and chaos, which at the center of it, Legolas stood, creating and directing all of it with his wrath, oblivious to anything else except releasing his rage.

Gimli was once again clutching tightly the waist of an elf. But this time it wasn't any elf, but rather, the King himself. He rode high upon Thranduil's steed, and was very conscious of the compliment this paid him, even if it did mean he had to ride.

He and the elven riders had rejoined with the main armies quite quickly, the horses' hooves flying around tree roots, taking them across the surest ground. The King had sensed their coming and was ready for them by the time they drew near. The three elven scouts had vanished back into the ranks, without giving Gimli a chance to thank them for their assistance, and also without a chance to repay Fendil for his slight upon the dwarves. Who's kin had saved whom here?

After hearing what Gimli had to say, the dwarf once more delivering the news of the corsair's departure, Thranduil had reacted with a calmness that had been surprising to Gimli. The king split his forces, biding that half of them should continue on to where the ships would be if Aragorn and Legolas were successful. The other half was to remain behind at the riverbanks and cut off any attempts of cowardly retreats made by the enemies down the river.

Gimli also, was to come and ride with him, as now all who came would be mounted. Many dwarves besides their leader were also borrowing seats on the horses of their elven compatriots.

Gimli tried to track where they were riding through in the forest, but soon discovered that this was an impossible task. The forest was home to an elf maybe, but to the dwarf, each tree was the same as the next, the only difference to his eyes was that some were dead, burnt away, and some had managed to survive the inferno. Gimli found himself growing impatient as the ride seemed to stretch indefinitely, but they could not move any faster. The king had already set a grueling pace for their steeds; it would extremely rude of him to complain. All he could do was clutch at the Thranduil's waist in hopes of not falling off, and hope that Aragorn and Legolas had achieved what they had set out to do. But even as he fretted, they drew nearer and nearer to where it seemed the final battle would take place.

Vulim was standing up high in the rigging that stretched from the deck to their tallest mast. Their ship, the mightiest of the fleet, which was comprised of three, had three masts stemming upward from the deck. Each was solid and mighty, this ship being Sanul's own.
But now it seemed that their captain was dead, something that Vulim could hardly believe. He had not known the captain well, nor had wished to know him, but he knew that it would take a great enemy to bring Sanul down. The captain had been extremely dangerous and powerful. It would be hard to find a replacement for their ships.

Vulim had been one of the few to remain behind and guard their slaves during the raid, something for which he gave many thanks, as no one but Ginsher had survived. The corsair lookout wanted nothing more to do with this forest.

Their ship now approached a bend in the river, and slowly, began the process of navigating it. It was difficult, as the bend was sharp, but there still remained to them, luckily, an experienced hand at the rudder.

As they came around the bend, in the shadowed light of the dawn, Vulim suddenly took note, and straightened in his perch. Ahead, blazing, was an intense light, casting everything all around it into silhouettes. It seemed to be coming from their lead ship, but they were too far away to tell. Floating on the air was dimmed yelling and shouting, but the corsair couldn't make out why this was so. And as they moved closer, before Vulim could get a better view, the radiating whiteness went out, vanishing as if it never were.

The corsair was filled with a cowardly panic. What had that been? And why was it now gone so suddenly? And why the yelling and screaming? He shimmied down the rigging as fast as he could, filled with a sense of foreboding and ran to report to the acting captain as their ship sailed on under his feet.

There was only silence. Where before the ship had been filled with the noise destruction brings, now, in the aftermath, it was filled only with silence. The ship creaked and groaned, the boat listing slightly to one side.

Curled tightly, protecting his face and neck with his arms, Aragorn was pressed tight against a side of the ship. It was one of the only spots left undamaged. Slowly, as the situation remained unchanging, Aragorn began to straighten out, bringing his arms down and opening his eyes. After blinking a few times to readjust them he gazed round to see what he had only been able to experience through his ears. And blinked again.

Utter destruction met his gaze. Both masts had fallen, one split clean at the bottom, the other cracked vertically and then ripped apart by the powerful forces that had been at work. Most of the deck was gone, making the wood underneath that still was intact very perilous and unsteady. And the upper deck, the upper deck was entirely gone, leaving only jagged holes, and shredded planks behind. Aragorn stared about him; he had curled up in one of the only untouched places aboard. All around, corsairs lay scattered, their blood dripping from their lifeless bodies down below to the lower cabins. Not one seemed to have survived.

Shakily, the king rose to his feet. Checking himself he deemed that he had suffered only small scratches and bruises, thankfully nothing serious. The wood beneath him held firm, and cautiously he stepped about, testing each beam before completely placing his weight upon it. He glanced around. All was still deadly quiet.

It was behind the stump of the main mast that Aragorn found him. Legolas had slumped down against the wood, his body turned towards the sea. The elf's eyes were closed, and his breath came ragged and harsh. His hair was moving slightly in the wind, drifting across his face.

Aragorn knelt beside him, and touched his hand to his shoulder, "Legolas?" He gave a small shake, "My friend, come now, the corsairs are dead. It is over."

Instantly the elf stirred beneath. His eyes fluttered, then opened. He lay completely still for a moment, staring ahead, and then, gasping, sat up quickly. A hand went up to clutch his head, and for a moment he doubled over in pain. Aragorn sat beside him, giving support.

"Estel?" Legolas breathed the name out faintly, still trying to catch his breath. The power he had unleashed had drained from his body much of his energy; it had been no simple task to create such destruction.

"I am here."

Then at the same time, both asked, "Are you all right?" "How fare you?"

Legolas sat up, the pain subsiding, and grinned as Aragorn gave a small chuckle. The ranger pulled the prince to his feet, and for the first time, Legolas saw clearly what he had done. His eyes widened. "I am responsible? I had not...I mean, the elves' power...and the masts..." he turned around to gaze at where the tall masts had once stood, "...only once before have I ever done this, but it wasn't the same...wasn't as...as powerful I suppose. Nor as channeled. It is a strange experience."

Aragorn nodded, his face grim as he stared about the destruction, "But the wrath has served its purpose. The corsairs are dead, and the ship is ours, at least, until it falls apart. I do not believe it is fit for much more than firewood now. You have reduced it to a splintered skeleton."

Legolas flexed his hands, gazing about as well, "The rage I felt. It is gone." After a pause to reflect he amended, "No, not gone. It is still there, these pirate scum still evoke it in me, but somehow, it is...more controllable. It will not overwhelm me again."

"And that, my friend, is comforting. I was lucky to have escaped your wrath."

"Yes," Legolas's glanced sideways at Aragorn, "For that I am greatly thankful. For looking back I can see that I was not in my right state of mind. Had you opened your eyes and gazed upon me I probably would have killed you as well." The elf started, "What about the maiden? Have you seen her?"

Aragorn shook his head, "But she couldn't not have gone anywhere. She must be around somewhere here, or down below. We will find her."

"And then release the other captives. Those who can still fight will provide much help against the other ships coming."

"Yes, we must prepare for that. We cannot waste any more time standing here. Let us go and find your folk."

The two friends moved about on the deck, testing each plank to see how well it would hold them. Legolas eventually wandered over to the staircase leading down below, "I have found the way down and am taking it Aragorn," he called over to where the ranger was crouching, removing debris from the maiden. He had just spotted her. The elf continued, "I can hear the captured, they will not be hard to find."

"Right, let them free. I will tend to her."

The elf disappeared from Aragorn's sight, and he turned his attention to the maiden. The last of the debris was cleared away and she sat up cautiously, looking dazed.

"My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Are you all right?"

She gazed at him, her eyes a deep green, "Yes...yes I am fine now that the corsairs," she spat the word out of her mouth, "are dead. I am grateful for your intervention. My name is Maril."

Aragorn nodded and helped pull her up to her feet, "Usually I carry some herbs with me, but I am afraid that I shall have to wait to tend your bruises."

"I don't mind." She paused for a moment, looking about her, "So, what are we going to do now? I take it your elf friend went below?"

"And has come back up. Aragorn, meet Fen-Galid, he has become the leader of the captured, and so speaks for them." Legolas had come up behind the two, bringing with him another tall, brown haired elf, who nodded his head in greeting. Behind them, others were coming out onto the deck, receiving their first breath of fresh air they'd had for days.

Aragorn returned the nod, "I take it then that you had no difficulties in freeing your people?"

Legolas shook his head, "It was no trouble. The keys had dropped to the floor right next to the locked doorway. It was only a matter of finding the correct one."

"And how many can we count on to aid us?"

Fen-Galid spoke, "All would aid you and our prince, but many are incapable due to injury. Those that come up on deck are those who can fight."

Aragorn gave the other elves a second glance over, "I see. Well, we are much strengthened by them, their help will prove key when the other corsairs attack."

Maril spoke, the three men turning to face her, "Which shan't be long. The second ship appears up the river. You see? Soon it will be upon us."

The men hurried over to the railing where she stood and gazed out up the river. Sure enough, the form of the mighty ship could be seen, barreling towards them. Surprisingly, Legolas grinned.

"I do not see what is so funny my friend." Aragorn gave the elf a puzzled glance.

"Look how fast they are moving. They are going to do half the damage for us, for they will never be able to stop in time." Silence between the four fell as the meaning of Legolas's words sank in.

Indeed, it soon became apparent to all on the deck that the corsairs were trying desperately to stop, turn, or slow their ship down in some way. Men were scurrying about on the decks, and shouts carried across the distance to reach the elven ears. But there was no stopping it.

"Come on," Aragorn said, "If they manage to turn their ship, they will be able to just barely sail past us. Not so if we turn ourselves." The man hurried to where the wheel, mostly undamaged, stood, and began to spin it round. Slowly and deliberately their ship began to turn. As Legolas had said, now a collision was inevitable.

Vulim stared in horror as the ship ahead of them turned diagonally in the water. There was no way to make it past them now and escape to the sea. They were going to collide! Closer and closer, the remaining space began to shorten. Across the deck the corsairs had given up trying to stop, and shout ran across, "Brace yourself!"

Vulim tightened his grip on the rigging, so tight his knuckles turned pale, cut off from the blood. There were only a few more seconds left. Vulim couldn't stand it. He turned his face away; he knew the mast was going to fall. His last thought was that he hoped it would crush someone when it did.

"Brace yourselves! Hold fast to something!" Aragorn and Legolas moved carefully, and hurriedly across the deck. In front of them, the scene of the approaching corsair ship filled their vision. It was moving fast with the current and wind.

"Here it comes!" Legolas shouted. Everyone grabbed onto something.

At that moment, the ships collided.

The second ship rammed straight into the side of the first, ripping through the already weakened planks, sending up showers of deadly splinters. The initial impact was huge, sending everyone on both ships tumbling and flying. The two ships rocked, and waves coursed underneath. With a mighty groan, the tallest mast on the second ship snapped and fell across the two ship's decks. It crashed through the railings, ruining the decks on both ships. Water seemed to be spraying up everywhere, mixing in with wooden shards and splinters.
Legolas, who had managed to clutch a rope in his hands to steady himself, looked around just in time to see Aragorn, who was by the railing, lose his balance from the mast's impact. The elf watched with horror as the man, his eyes widened with surprise, was flung off the ship, the railing he had been using for support having been smashed off, leaving nothing for Aragorn to reach out and grab hold to as he fell into the water below. In a second he had vanished.

"Aragorn!" Legolas leapt up and sprinted across the deck. He reached the edge where the rail had been and, without thinking, dove in after his friend, desperate to save him.

Fen-Galid stared round himself in shock, the two men who had known the most about what was going on had just been lost. Which meant that he must now direct the elves in battle. He prepared himself and the others to fight. The water spray was everywhere; one of the ships was surely starting to sink. The collision had done incredible damage.

The corsairs reared up on their ship, swords and weapons gleaming. Evil eyes gleamed from behind scraggily hair. The elves also sprang to their feet, some were unarmed, but most had reclaimed their weapons from the armory. With cries echoing up and down the river, they sprang at each other, jumping over onto each other's decks. The weapons flashed and very quickly blood was spilt out upon the decks, both corsair and elven. The two sides clashed hard, an intense fighting taking place.

It was at this point that Thranduil and his men arrived on the riverbanks, their horses gleaming with foam and sweat from the pace, but the riders quite ready for battle nonetheless. Arrows shone out in the early-morning light and axes bristled from the dwarves. So it was that the final engagement began.

all right, that's it, another cliffhanger for you MelanyeBaggins :) anywho, this is how I see an elf's wrath, I have always pictured it as this huge destructive force, with incredible power behind it, fueled by the elf's emotions. I hope I conveyed that.

R/R please!!